


Master of the Stage

by bielefelts



Category: Ensemble Stars! (Video Game)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-18
Updated: 2017-08-18
Packaged: 2018-12-16 17:40:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 560
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11833743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bielefelts/pseuds/bielefelts
Summary: A house of worship can be anything.A song of worship can be sung anywhere.And worship can be done by anyone...





	Master of the Stage

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this two months ago and in light of 礼賛歌's release I was, to put it lightly, _shook as fuck_ , and what made me decide to post this here instead of letting it gather dust forever on Twitter.

Shu was master of the stage. As the leader of the highly accredited and praised idol unit, Valkyrie, as sovereign of renowned Yumenosaki Academy, he perfectly commanded it, the crowd, his dolls, his and their voices and steps; a Puppeteer who strings were attached to everything his eyes peered down upon from their lofty throne. 

Right now, however, Shu was not on stage. Rather, he _was_ the stage. Mika, the soloist who stood atop, his presence enveloping, overpowering, not allowing himself to be ignored. His eyes blind to the world aside the living, marble architecture before him, as he sang an impassioned, intelligible baritone into the column of Shu’s neck, the chiseled corner of his jaw, the fine contours of the his lips. The seats were empty. A crowd wasn’t needed, wasn’t welcomed. This performance was only between them. His voice, usually a nasally, heavily accented drawl, was reaching a depth that resembled the possessed, unstable, almost mad, in its tone and fervor, reverberating in Shu’s chest, echoing off the amphitheater that his ribcage constructed, dripping sultry embers onto his heart, and resonating his very core. Mika’s tongue finds its way into his mouth, a mouthpiece — he feels a hand cup and massage him through his pants — no, a microphone, amplifying those deep hums, groans and moans that Shu’s voice echoed in the solitude of the room. 

Shu was still sovereign here. His status not was not being challenged. No….

This was worship. His name spilling out of the other in a dark chant, the frantic prayers of a heretic begging God to forgive his unholy existence and grant him passage into the gates of Heaven. 

_(Heheh…Oshisan...Oshisan...Oshi—nnah—san...I love ya so much, Oshisan…Oshisan...)_

He feels Mika’s hand slide under his waistband. 

Now, Shu was not particularly religious, despite the obvious Norse pagan reference the very name his own unit bore. However, here…

Here, he was a being brought to an understanding that he was perhaps being given sainthood. Or perhaps, more likely, tumbling down the fiery levels of Hell. He wasn’t quite sure anymore. Nor did he care. Saintly or demonic, a ruler was meant to be revered.

A ruler still had his duties…

Hands entangled in messy dark hair, he slides his arms that had been wrapped around Mika’s shoulders raking down a bony back, half-expecting to hit skeletal wings, before moving them between their bodies, touching the other’s wrist briefly before finally finding their destination, freeing Mika from the confines of his trousers. 

The low, shuddering gasp of relief into Shu’s mouth is all Shu needed to know that he had brought salvation to the damned. 

Shu flips their positions, towers over Mika. Bare arms and chest enclosing the body below them, now temporarily laying helpless, willing, under their sanctuary.

Any angelic metaphor that Shu wanted to allot onto the beautiful boy under him, however, immediately was silenced as a low chuckle rumbles out of his throat. Pupil’s slits, contrasting his irises which were the colors of the heavens themselves, shining gold and sky blue, eyelids hooded, wicked playfulness challenging his owner. A prayer for strength unconsciously ran through Shu’s mind. 

He was not afraid though. 

A house of worship was, theoretically, a stage too after all, was it not? A stage’s spotlight was meant to change, and...

Its master had returned.

**Author's Note:**

> Now excuse me as I listen to the Valkyrie pv's on continuous loop until the full versions are released and then listen to those on continuous loop until I too ascend to Valhalla.
> 
> Original post: https://twitter.com/itsukioneesan/status/876608499362529280


End file.
